


Supple Sounds

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Series: Exquisite Red [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cannibalism, Discussion of Necrophilia, First Time, M/M, Minor Character Death, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to see the pretty girls when all Dean sees is corpses, and it's harder yet to see anything when all Dean sees is Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supple Sounds

Dean’s not sure how he knows when Sam’s picked the right girl. Every pretty thing that even gives Dean a second glance makes his heart race, makes him wonder if this is it, if she’s the one. He wants to ask, wants to suggest a girl here and there he thinks is perfect, but he’s afraid to push. Some of his big brother instinct clings onto protecting Sam, even from himself. Nevermind that he shouldn’t be considering the best approach to fucking his little brother. 

 

Still. Sam’s eyes land on Amber Easton - Everton? Whatever - when they’re out at a bar getting supper, and Dean can feel the curl of heat start in his belly. She’s chatting Dean up at the bar while he waits for a second round of beers for Dad and himself., but Amber’s voice fades to a drone in the background of Dean’s mind as soon as he sees the look on Sam’s face. He has to forcibly tear his gaze away from Sam’s to try to keep the girl on the line. 

 

Luck holds out for them - well, for the brothers, not so much for Amber - and Dad stays out of town for longer than anticipated. Dean takes Amber parking; there’s no way for them to use the house since it belongs to a friend of Dad’s, so this is the next best option. 

 

The ramshackle barn reminds Dean of that place in Waverly and damn if he doesn’t get the symbolism. They won’t be able to do this again, though. Twice is a coincidence. Three is a pattern. He makes a mental note to tell Sam as he lures Amber into the barn as she giggles and pretends to be shy as she presses close to his side. 

 

Sam lets it get as far as Dean coaxing Amber’s bra off, the girl making a soft sound as his mouth closes around a pink nipple. Suddenly, he’s there by Dean’s side and Amber starts to scream. Dean doesn’t hesitate to clamp a hand over her mouth and press another against her windpipe. It takes both brothers to tie her up and keep her quiet, but they manage. 

 

Sam’s got his favorite knife and keeps flipping it with one hand, a hypnotic motion that’s soothed Dean’s burning more than once. Now, it just serves to catch Amber’s wide, panicked eyes, and makes her scream behind her gag when Sam comes closer. 

 

“You wanna?” Sam asks, holding the knife out. It’s a testament to how much he loves Dean, really. Dean knows Sammy lives for the kill. 

 

“Nah. You like this part more than I do. I’d rather watch you.” 

 

Watching Sam work is like watching a fledgling artist experiment. Quick, fast slashes alternate with long, deep gashes so blood muddies the loose barn dirt. Sam only stops to strip, draping his clothes safely away from the mess, then he’s kneeling over Amber, hard and bare, knees stirring more blood to mud. 

 

“C’mon, Dean. Get me ready.” 

 

They’ve been practicing, taking turns fingering Sam loose. Dean likes the blood, likes the screaming, but not from Sam. Not from this. 

 

Now, Sammy opens beautifully for him, groaning  and muttering words of devotion as he rocks back onto Dean’s fingers. He’s still nicking Amber’s skin here and there just to draw another pained moan from the bleeding girl, clenching a bit every time she does. Dean halfway wishes there were light so he could see Sam’s hole properly, slick and shiny with lube, dusky around his thick fingers, but there’s no way to have that here. 

 

Dean left his clothes with Sam’s, but remembered to grab a condom. Sam nearly protests until Dean reaches around to roll it down Sam’s cock. 

 

“No DNA trail,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his little brother’s skinny shoulder. Dean slicks his cock and pushes the head just against Sam’s hole. 

 

“Please. Oh, God, Dean, please.” 

 

Together, they push Dean inside Sam’s body, Sam meeting his brother halfway even though taking his first cock has to hurt. There’s no sign of pain though, not in the way Sam thrusts back eagerly, groaning deep and low as Dean starts to fuck him. 

 

Amber’s below them, and Dean has no idea if the girl is dead or alive by now, but he can feel her thighs brushing along the inside of his as he thrusts into his little brother. He gets his answer when there’s a gurgle, a sure sign that Sam has cut her throat, and Dean can feel his pace stutter. 

 

If she wasn’t dead before, she certainly is now. 

 

Dean can’t hold back the harder pump of his hips, but Sammy doesn’t complain about the harsh, erratic pace. Instead, that sweet little mouth lets out panting moans and breathy whispers that get lost under the sounds of Dean’s heavy breathing and the sound of skin striking skin

 

“God, Dean, please,” Sam moans after a while, and Dean silently curses himself, He leans down enough to get a hand around Sam’s condom-covered cock and strokes him tight and slow just the way Sam likes. Sam tightens around him, giving a trembling little cry and it’s not long before Dean can feel the tell-tale pulses of Sam’s dick spilling his come into the condom. 

 

“Fuck Sammy.” Dean feels out of control, pounding away at his nearly-virginal baby brother, nails sinking into skinny hips, but Sam just keeps taking it, moaning sweetly until Dean finally comes. The idea of filling Sam and the sensation of his own come sliding around his cock makes Dean shiver, a too-good, too-much tingle that has him biting back a whimper. 

 

Sam’s blood muddy when Dean pulls out and pulls him up, tacky blood sticking their chests together as they kiss until they’re dizzy. Dean wants to suck every breath out of Sam and taste every whimper in his mouth, but no part of him can handle the thought of Sammy not breathing.

 

The body cools below them, still and bloody in a way that shouldn’t make Dean’s cock twitch. He ignores it in favor of brushing the tiny half-moon cuts along Sam’s hips, and he can’t fight back the smirk on his lips when Sam moans. 

 

“Get cleaned up, Sammy,” he murmurs eventually. “Can’t stay gone too long.”

 

A couple of jugs of water wash the worst of the mess off Sam’s skin, and he slips back into his jeans and boxers. Dean’s buried in his work, carving off bits of meat that they can carry back in the cooler in the car. He spares a moment to brush his knife along her breasts, damaged as they are by Sam’s attentions, and slides the blade down to her pussy. That much is still intact, untouched - at least by Sam. 

 

“You can fuck her now, if you want.” The calm offer makes Dean’s stomach cramp and his cock leap where it’s already hardening between his legs. “I don’t care if they’re dead.” 

 

“Jesus Sammy that’s - that’s fucked up.” Dean tries to laugh it off, but it falls flat and both brothers know it. 

 

“We’re fucked up.” Sam just shrugs and goes to get the cooler, leaving Dean to his thoughts as his hands tremblingly go back to work. 

  
  



End file.
